


Candles for the Dead

by Harukami



Category: Nabari no Ou
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on <a href="http://harukami.dreamwidth.org/770154.html#cutid1">my journal</a> Feb 16, 2011 for <a href="http://springkink.livejournal.com/1331908.html">Springkink</a> (revised and edited Dec 7 2014 for hosting here).</p><p>Prompt: Nabari no Ou, Miharu/Yoite: Sleep and bedding themes (sharing a bed by necessity, such as in a hotel with only one room left; sharing a sleeping bag for warmth; falling asleep against someone's shoulder; watching someone sleep; dreams; nightmares) - stars</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candles for the Dead

The rain finishes, so Miharu and Yoi-te leave the train station in the middle of the night. It's for a variety of reasons really. Because neither of them want to risk bringing down Kairoushuu on the heads of these normal, surface-world people who took the time to be kind to them. Because right now, every minute counts. Because Yoi-te came back from the bathroom shaken and unhappy and although Miharu didn't ask why, he didn't need to. He knows kindness is painful to Yoi-te, because Yoi-te, like himself, is an empty hole that wants to be filled but can't bear the feeling of having much put in it. 

So they go and walk along the tracks for a while. Dawn is a short while off and they're both tired. 

"Yoi-te," Miharu says. Yoi-te doesn't hear him, so he brushes his hand against Yoi-te's sleeve; Yoi-te hears best when his eyes are filling in the details his ears won't accept. Yoi-te looks at him, and Miharu says, "Yoi-te, shouldn't we rest?"

Out in the middle of nowhere, probably not followed because there have been a dozen times to attack them, this is probably the safest they've been for a while and probably the safest they'll be for a while yet. Yoi-te hesitates and, heart in his mouth, Miharu knows why -- knows that he's estimating whether his encroaching death is far enough away that resting might help stave it off a tiny bit longer, or close enough that resting can't help and will only waste time.

"Let's rest," Yoi-te agrees, and Miharu starts to breathe again.

They move a little distance away; they can still see the train tracks but are in the shelter of a leaning hill, where the ground is still dry on this side and the worst of the wind is cut down as well. It's not warm; Miharu can't seem to remember the last time he was genuinely warm, and he imagines it must be worse still for Yoi-te. But it's dry and _less_ cold than it had been and his heart aches less than it had with the night wind buffeting them as they'd walked.

They lie there a few moments, and finally, Miharu asks -- cautious, undemanding -- "Can I move closer?"

Yoi-te tilts his head towards Miharu. "Okay," he says, after a long moment, and his long limbs are loose and open. Miharu shuffles over, tucks himself between one of Yoi-te's arms and Yoi-te's body. Yoi-te's unnaturally warm. Even with Miharu's lowered body temperature to take into consideration, it's clear Yoi-te is running a high fever. Miharu doesn't mention it. What good would mentioning it do? But he thinks that Yoi-te's fever is part of his body's frantic, desperate, selfish struggle to live, and he huddles into the warmth like he can burn its memory into his skin and carry it with him for the rest of his life. His hand curls around the scar carved into his palm. Everything he can carry, he will carry, he thinks. Everything he can take forward into the future, he will. Maybe, even if he manages to unwrite Yoi-te's existence like Yoi-te wants, he will still feel this warmth fluttering against him when he sleeps at night. Maybe even if he doesn't remember the cause he will remember the desperate sad love torturing him right now. It might not be a blessing. It might be a curse. He, like Yoi-te, is an empty hole who can't bear having much put in. So right now all there is is this sad love, he thinks, and a hope. The hope's the more dangerous of the two. The hope that he can live on and feel this warmth at his side, for real, for the rest of his life, that Yoi-te will let Miharu save his life instead, that Yoi-te will let himself live to be with Miharu the way Miharu wants to live to be with Yoi-te.

But those are selfish thoughts and so he won't voice them. They'll torture Yoi-te, who knows what he wants but is, too, filled with a sad love, and is, too, someone who won't want to hurt Miharu. So if Yoi-te doesn't realize how much Miharu is hurting, that's fine.

Yoi-te has turned his face away and is staring up at the sky; Miharu studies his profile for a bit, and Yoi-te catches his gaze when he looks back. Miharu feels himself blush but doesn't look away.

"Miharu," Yoi-te says. "Are the stars out?"

Miharu breaks their gaze, looks up at the sky. "Can't you see them?"

"No," Yoi-te says. "It's just a blurred darkness. I can't see to heaven."

Miharu points to his mouth. "See them here, then," he says, and, feeling Yoi-te's gaze on him, begins to speak: "The wind's cleared away the rest of the rainclouds, so the sky's been laid bare. This far from the city, it's amazing how much is visible now. How much isn't hidden any more. It's a blanket of light. A carpet of life. It's like if every tear that's ever been shed has lodged into the sky. Like jewels. Sad jewels. When I see them my heart aches. Maybe they're lanterns far away, calling each of us home." But Yoi-te will never go there. Still, he can't stop. "Candles for the dead. It's clear how people could make myths about them. The people who create myths, they don't come from cities like ours. They don't come from cities filled with false light. So at night it's just this. This aching darkness, this complete openness, and stars far away in the heavens beckoning. They must be like us. They must be calling to us. That's why they must have thought to create stories. It's so big. It's bigger than anything."

"The wisdom inside you could fill it," Yoi-te says, watching Miharu's face as Miharu watches the sky.

Shaking his head, a slow drag of his hair against the ground, Miharu says, "Maybe even that couldn't. Maybe if every letter poured out of me to imprint itself on the sky we could compare but I don't think it'd begin to fill it. What's up there, what's out there, it's bigger than you and me, it's bigger than the Shinrabanshou, it's bigger maybe than anything humanity could understand as a whole. And it's so clear. So visible. People say they feel insignificant under the stars. I understand it. Miharu is insignificant. Even the Shinrabanshou is insignificant."

"Yoi-te is insignificant," Yoi-te says.

"No," Miharu says "I could never see a heaven with an insignificant Yoi-te under it. That doesn't exist in my world. But for me, here and now, being insignificant isn't so bad. And not in the way I usually want. It's not the way I usually think. It's just that it's so big but I exist in it. I'm one part of it. I don't need to be significant for that. That's true regardless."

"Ah," Yoi-te says.

Miharu talks until his voice is raw, until he thinks he can almost taste blood in his mouth, which is humbling because he thinks Yoi-te feels that way whenever he talks at all. He looks over; Yoi-te has fallen asleep, eyes closed, head still tilted towards him, breathing shallowly and still alive, so Miharu stops talking and cries instead, huddles to Yoi-te's side and clinging close, until he too falls asleep.

It's a bright and clear morning when dawn breaks, and they rise, and continue along the tracks. Miharu thinks that, maybe, he will do his best today to make today to live for. Just for today. There aren't many days left, so it must be fine to live their fullest just for one day. 

He slides his hand into Yoi-te's as they walk.

Yoi-te lets him, and curls his own hand around Miharu's, and just like that, Miharu feels warm again.


End file.
